Kiyoko snatched up her things and stormed out of the office, a fury so intense it practically radiated off her in scarlet waves. Everyone knew better than to cross her path; they were all aware of the reason for her wrath. Like statues, they buried themselves in paperwork, eyes down, doing their best to become invisible. The usually vibrant, bustling office had been plunged into an eerie silence, broken only by the sharp click of Kiyoko’s heels as they echoed across the polished floor on her way to the elevator.

It was Valentine’s Day, of all days, and here she was, stuck at the office managing incompetents, when she had promised she’d be home early. As she approached the elevator, a few coworkers made their escape, darting out with unnatural speed. She stabbed the ground floor button with unnecessary force, her manicured hand running through her flawless hair in frustration. Glancing at her watch, she let out a sharp tsk. 10:45 p.m. By the time she got home, it would be past eleven. Words couldn’t begin to describe her frustration as she stormed out of the building, flipping open her umbrella against the rain as she marched toward her sleek black Range Rover, eager to get back to her fiancée.

Traffic was its usual chaos, but there was a single moment of calm: the sound of your voice when she called. Hearing you instantly soothed her frayed nerves, though the guilt gnawed at her. “I’m serious. You can chop my hand off as punishment,” she said, her tone deadpan despite her sincerity. You laughed, reassuring her over and over that it was fine, that she didn’t need to worry. Little did Kiyoko know, you had your own surprise waiting for her at home. In some ways, it was almost fortunate she was late—preparing everything had taken longer than expected, especially with the strain on your back and knees from decorating.

“I’ll be home soon, okay? Love you.” She blew you a kiss through the phone before hanging up, your affectionate goodbyes still lingering in her ears.

The familiar crunch of gravel under her tires signaled her arrival as she pulled into the driveway. She pressed the remote to open the gate, parking her car and cutting the engine. With a sense of urgency, she grabbed her bag and hurried to the front door, stepping inside to find the house cloaked in darkness.

“Honey, I’m home,” she called softly, locking the door behind her. But no reply came, only silence. Puzzled, she moved forward and felt a crunch beneath her heel. Glancing down, she spotted a trail of rose petals and the soft glow of small candles leading up the stairs. A smile tugged at her lips. Setting her bag on the counter, she followed the path up to the second floor, her curiosity piqued. The trail ended outside your shared bedroom, and she knocked gently before stepping inside.

What greeted her nearly made her stumble. The room was bathed in a warm, flickering vanilla candlelight, and her heart swelled with a rush of emotion. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she tried and failed to find the words. You stood before her in a stunning set of red lace crotchless lingerie, the floral design accentuating your curves, the delicate cutouts along your torso drawing her gaze.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe. Her fingers traced the delicate bows and soft lace that adorned your stockings before settling on your hips. “You did all this for me?” A tender smile spread across her face as she pulled you closer, enveloping you in her warm embrace.